


try, try again

by cptsuke



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 08:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: Juice and his dyna; a fixing things metaphor.a short almost coda ficlet for my fave





	try, try again

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote & posted this on tumblr ages ago as an attempt to deal with my SOA final season feels.

With the DA on her warpath and the Irish and everything in between the club's been pulling long hours and there's not a lot of daylight left to put together a broken Dyna.

Still, when there's no phonecalls left to be taken or made, when they’re no longer needed in Stockton or Diosa or at the table Juice finds himself turned towards Teller-Morrow where the clubhouse is boarded up and the garage is dark and his bike sits lonely and in pieces.

He’s tired, maybe more tired than he’s ever been - he thinks maybe he can’t possibly be more exhausted than he is now but he thought that when Bobby went away and the weeks following have only made a mockery of that sentiment, so he doesn’t think much about it anymore - he just knows hes not going to sleep if he goes home now. And of all the broken things that haunt him, the skeletal wreck of his Dyna is the one thing he can fix.

It’s not that he doesn’t like what he’s riding now, its not like his dyna haunts him every time he throws a leg over the new bike or finds himself distracted and momentarily confused when he sees it sitting alongside the rest of the Son’s bikes, out of place and wrong. Even though it’s exactly like that.

Still the bike’s been given to him and for that he’s grateful. Jax didn’t need to give him it - he could’ve left Juice, could’ve packed Juice and his busted apart bike into the van to be driven home like the screw up he is, because for all his talk of being even and forgiven Juice isn’t stupid; he’s going to be earning his way back in for the rest of his life - but he didn’t and Juice is grateful for that.

But its not really his bike, its just something he needs to keep up.

Being at TM is weird now; the clubhouse is dark and deathly quiet, Unser sometimes watches him ride in from behind his trailer’s screen door - sometimes lifts a hand, sometimes doesn’t - but mostly its just Juice, the buzzing of the fluorescent light and the bugs that start flocking to it when the night’s fully settled in.

He knows he’s almost gotten to the point where he won’t be able to do much more until the parts he’s got on order come in.

But he finds himself pulling out the spark plugs again, sitting them in a row near where Chibs had taken off his rings, and scrubs each one til they're shining.

Or he plays with the engine; tweaking it one way then back the other, tunes the throttle to a different pace, then changes it back again.

And sometimes he just sits, resting against the lift where oil stains are slowly spreading back over the rust colored splotches he left on the cement not so long ago, just sits there, nurses a beer and looks at it; in pieces, broken and missing parts.

Fucked really.

And maybe that's all its ever going to be.

But maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Maybe he just has to keep going.


End file.
